


In Basements

by Marasa



Series: Dynamic Stretching [12]
Category: Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Anger, Blood, Fight Club - Freeform, Fighting, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Masochism, Panic Attack, Street fighting, protective, they like the pain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-31
Updated: 2017-12-31
Packaged: 2019-02-24 13:22:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13214637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marasa/pseuds/Marasa
Summary: Even in the dark, Josh can see just how bad Tyler’s hands are trembling.





	In Basements

“I will murder you! I will put you in the fucking ground, you, you, FUCK YOU!”

Josh is holding back a flail of kicking bare feet and bloody fingers tearing through the air, claws searching for eyes or any other tender part of the human body that will quell his fury.

Josh isn't even that hurt.

Yeah, he tapped out, but Jesus, he could take more of a beating than that. Just got a little turned around, confused.

He's got his head now and he kinda has to because the gangly man in his arms is completely losing it.

Tyler spits a loogie in the direction of the other guy who is being carted away from the makeshift wrestling ring in the middle of the stuffy room and in the direction of the exit.

“Gross, Tyler, c’mon, stop, stop.”

Josh’s pleas go mostly unheard by the other who is still snarling and screeching to the equally infuriated stranger who is being drug up the steps of the basement.

The heavy door hiding their secret club away from the upright public is pushed open at the top of the stairs. The man and his disgruntled friends disappear finally as the door slams behind them, locking the hot air smelling of intense violence inside.

Tyler is still squirming in Josh’s grip, their shirtless torsos sliding and gripping each other with every rough movement Tyler gives in vain.

Josh only releases him when he goes mostly still again, no more kicking or lurching or grabbing. He’s a little worried Tyler will go sprint after that guy and finish what they started down here, so Josh stands in front of him. 

His tall stature does nothing to break Tyler's deadly gaze still trained on the door over Josh's shoulder.

“You fucking tapped out but he didn’t stop, the, the,” Tyler’s fingers grip tightly to Josh’s shoulders as he leans up and past him to yell in the direction the other man disappeared, “MOTHERFUCKER!”

“Shh,” Josh coos on instinct at the other’s breakdown.

His hand flies to Tyler’s cheek. He tries to pull his frantic gaze back to him.

Quickened breath, tight muscles, the shine of a thin film of desperate tears of frustration spreading across Tyler’s eyes brings Josh’s heart ache worse than the black bruises stretching along his ribs.

“H-He broke the _rules_ , Josh, you were tapping out and he- he- the rules-”

“ _Enough._ ”

Tyler shuts up.

He blinks at Josh’s firm tone and in that eye contact they share, Tyler looks so weak.

There’s a gash through his eyebrow from the knuckles of a previous fight earlier in the night, the beginnings of a black eye on the edge of his eye, blood smeared across his cheek that may or not be his.

The blood in his teeth is no doubt his, as is the chunk of the inside of his cheek half-bitten off and flailing around on his tongue whenever he talks.

It smells like blood and sweat in this basement. It’s nearly suffocating. They’d love to go outside for some fresh air and to calm down but the guy who refused to stop beating Josh left that way and Josh doesn’t want to risk running into him.

He decides he’ll give it a few more minutes, so until then, Josh pulls Tyler to the darkest corner of the basement while another fight begins not that far away.

Even in the dark, Josh can see just how bad Tyler’s hands are trembling. It’s not from the exertion of the previous fight, rather the fury that courses through him.

“Josh, Josh, _Josh_.”

Tyler is shaking so much, Josh is sure he’s about to either explode or implode.

With the way his eyes are shining, Josh is guessing it’ll be the latter.

Without another wasted moment, Josh steps closer and connects their foreheads together, his own bruised and bloody hand finding Tyler’s swelling cheekbone.

He murmurs closely to him airy pleas to calm down, soft assurances that he’s safe, forget those holy rules for right now, just breathe.

The cut up bridges of their noses nudge and grind against each other affectionately as Josh whispers to him that pain is the point, bleeding is the reason they’re here, to get their body’s beaten and to beat other bodies.

They're fine. He's fine.

Josh takes Tyler’s trembling hands in his own. He holds them still.

His caressing thumb slides across sticky blood but there’s no hiss of pain, just the soft smirks of light-headed pleasure that arises from the prickle of discomfort of a thumbnail dipping into a gash across bruised knuckles.

“Are you okay?” Tyler murmurs, nodding to his ribs relentlessly pummeled not too long ago.

“Of course I’m okay,” Josh says.

Tyler hums. He looks down.

“What?” Josh lays his smashed toes over Tyler’s. “What’s on your mind?”

Tyler’s blood-sticky toes give a weak wiggle under Josh’s.

“Can’t we just, like, fight each other?” he says. “Alone. Out of here.”

Josh chuckles. “Can you have a club with two people?”

“I don’t give a fuck,” Tyler says. “Just want you. You follow the rules.”

Josh actually laughs at that and then so does Tyler. The movement of their bruised ribs causes them pain that only has them laughing harder in quickly approaching bliss.

“Yeah, okay,” Josh says as he catches his breath. “Next time, next time.”

Tyler scratches a wet scab off of Josh’s wrist. “Promise?”

Josh pushes his nail into the weeping crevice of Tyler’s torn cuticle. “Promise.”

Tyler isn’t trembling anymore and that feels better than any of the spots of pain that make Josh deliciously woozy.

They smile at each other till the fresh splits in their lips bust open again.


End file.
